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Friday, June 12, 2015

New Territory

As I sit looking out this morning over the lavender, the lawn and to the big trees beyond, the shadows are long and the leaves are backlit in the color of Kelly green.

On this spot an old abandoned house was given a new lease on life. So, too, a little feral cat appeared one day last year, part of the Feral Recycling Program to give it a second chance.  At first, the little cat would peek from behind a fence, curious but wary.  He lived under an unoccupied home, and foraged for himself until food and water appeared regularly, and he fell into the groove. He lays at the doorstep now, stretching his paws long and comfortably on the side of the house which in catspeak means come out and play. The dogs watch from the house as I sing, 'You'll never get away from me' from the musical Gypsy.

After a cuddle, he prances ahead to the tune of 'Following the Leader' on the way to the food bowl, and I am amazed this wonderful cat could have been overlooked.

Out front there is a gangly shrub we nearly cut down before realizing it was a pomegranate tree. Boy was that a near miss.

This spot was also where a young dog found its way back to usefulness.   It didn't take long to discover her forgiving and kind nature and the unlimited potential of life lessons about love and trust and facing down prejudice.

And just the other day we watched a territorial dispute between two big birds.

Around here, birds of prey grow up glorious, and large, and well matched in size and maturity.  Several varieties of hawk and owl are plentiful and their territories often collide, but we rarely get to witness the exchange.

We were eating dinner when the Hubs saw it first - look! look! - and as I fumbled to focus on the flurry of activity, he ran for the camera and quietly eased out onto the porch.

A large hawk had chased something into the trees.  A beautiful, large barn owl hung upside down with talons clinging to a branch that clearly could not sustain its weight. Moments later, with a heavy thud, it hit the ground on its back. The owl flipped over and spread its wings wide, with an expression of surprise. (I'll bet!)

From the ground, the owl bowed its head and shook it back and forth, back and forth, and looked up and beyond the fence. It repeated this gesture several times from the ground, wings spread, without moving otherwise.  Evidently we were watching a situational struggle for domination without the fierce interchange of a fight.

We thought the owl was injured, but it wasn't: its' eyes were locked beyond our vantage point on the Hawk sitting nearby, staring intently back at the owl, wings folded, and leaning forward.  There was no ambiguity in the message: this is my turf and you need to move on. 

The hawk didn't move and the owl didn't move, and I'm sure the owl was wondering how it would be able to safely extract itself from the situation and save face. It was then the Hubs moved a little closer, and the owl took the opportunity to pivot around to face us, snap his wings in close and take off towards home.  The Hawk coolly watched with a satisfied win.

Later, we watched the hawk family fly from their nest at the top of the trees, teaching their young to ride the currents.